Become the beast
by freedomqueen
Summary: Bedannibal / Alternative turn out of events during/after Dolce (6x3) and maybe before. Alternative Hannibal/Bedelia's relationship development / Hannibal asks Bedelia to stay. Bedelia accepts. Everything between them changes.


_**AUTHOR'S NOTE:**_

 _Hej! (Yeah, after Borgen and The Killing I'm learning Danish lol. Not to mention my celebrities crush with almost the entire cast)_

 _Hello to everyone and happy new year!_

 _Something I wrote, I believe, a year ago or maybe more._

 _Imagine there's no canon Hannigram (yeah, I'm also a Hannigram shipper). Alternative Hannibal/Bedelia's relationship development; also alternative turn out of events for/and after_ _Dolce_ _(6x3)._

 _As always I want to thank my awesome beta **RichelleBrinkley** , for her patience and for really teaching me to try to write every time just a little bit better. _

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**BECOME THE BEAST**

Hannibal Lecter was gone; he would always leave early in the morning and not come back until late in the afternoon. It had been his routine since they'd arrived in Florence.

Bedelia spent most of her days giving private classes in their apartment. Her apprentices were young, bold women and men—and on more than one occasion, these women and men had tried to seduce her, full well knowing she was a "happily" married woman. She rarely paid any attention to their attempts; instead, Professor Bedelia Du Maurier simply kept explaining whatever it was the subject matter consisted of.

She rarely went out, except for that time of the day when she performed her tiny act of rebellion: _"due bottiglie di Bâtard-Montrachet e tartufi bianchi, per favore,"_ and a shy smile deliberately for the camera.

After several weeks, Bedelia found herself wondering if it was, truly, an act of rebellion—but to truly be one, Hannibal should have forced her into escaping with him—that wasn't the case at all. Dr. Lecter hadn't forced her; she deliberately had decided to go along with him. Why had she decided to indulge Hannibal's proposal? Bedelia didn't have an answer, at least not yet.

Bedelia Du Maurier—Lydia Fell now—hadn't felt anything lately, nothing had changed. Nothing different happened. Her life, although it felt as if it was someone else's, went on. Day after day, night after night. She felt frozen in time. Hannibal had frozen her in time.

 _Hannibal?_

Bedelia discovered there was a feeling that described exactly how she'd felt since her arrival to Florence: she felt numb. Dr. Du Maurier suspected Hannibal himself had realized how she felt. He had always been a gentleman around her, but now in Florence, Bedelia noticed Hannibal was overreacting his usual attitude. Dr. Lecter, with no success, had tried to grow closer to her, not to mention his—back then unimaginable—scenes of jealousy. Bedelia had taken mental note of the several times Hannibal tried to engage in a deeper talk, rather than their psychiatrist-patient conversations.

Truth be told, it was not that Hannibal didn't attract her. Dr. Lecter, Bedelia recognized, had always been a good-looking, polite man—he still was—but she also knew Hannibal Lecter was, despite all his charming layers, _dangerous_.

Bedelia brought peace to her mind reminding herself that Hannibal wouldn't have come to her in the first place if he had thought she was disposable. He well could have killed her the moment he had paid a visit (and a shower) to her house. Instead, after reproaching Bedelia for leaving her psychiatrist position, Hannibal had asked her about trust and then he was simply inviting her to come to Florence.

Back then Bedelia felt optimistic Hannibal wouldn't kill her; now she had come to the conclusion that as badly as Dr. Lecter wanted to eat her, apparently he couldn't do it. She didn't know his real motives, but she had her suspicions… Was it because she had seen through his person suit and she still liked him all the same?

Dr. Du Maurier still remembered the first time she confessed so; she remembered the conversation they had in her office/living room, she remembered how her relationship with Hannibal was, how it had always been, and, maybe, how it always will be: Bedelia reminding Hannibal of the boundaries, and Hannibal trying to break them. Dr. Du Maurier remembered how not so long ago both had enjoyed playing the game of boundaries.

 _I see enough of you to see the truth of you. And I like you._

But Bedelia wasn't foolish at all; she also thought that Hannibal's motives could very well be… mundane. Perhaps Hannibal thought her flesh had a particular taste, flavor and eating her would simply end that pleasure. Didn't they say fantasy was more piquant than deeds?

Now in Florence, Bedelia felt trapped in a cage she had built.

Was it some morbid feeling she felt for Hannibal? Was there any feeling at all?

 _"I see enough of you to see the truth of you. And I like you." "It's nice when someone sees us, Hannibal. Or has the ability to see us. It requires trust. Trust is difficult for you."_

If Bedelia ever had doubted or was cryptic about her own emotions, Hannibal had always been openly honest about his. He had confessed he felt protective of Bedelia once, if her memory didn't fail.

 _I feel protective of you. You support me as a colleague and psychiatrist—and as a human being. I want to be supportive of you, after what happened._

She made present in her mind that time when Hannibal offered to tell the version she preferred, regarding the events of their patient Neal Frank, if she simply asked him to. However, Dr. Du Maurier wasn't stupid at all—she always knew that Hannibal's actions weren't entirely pure or selfless. Bedelia, being Hannibal's psychiatrist, knew there was always an ulterior motive for him. Even still, twisted or not, Hannibal had been there for her, repeatedly, and Bedelia would take advantage of Hannibal's eagerness towards her.

As hard as it was, Bedelia had accepted within herself that she felt the same way towards him.

 _"You have to be careful, Hannibal. They're starting to see your pattern."_

She recalled the times she had told half-truths to Jack Crawford. Dr. Du Maurier would argue with Hannibal after doing so, but she kept protecting him until "the end"—until they escaped the chaos Hannibal had created.

Or was it something colder, something selfish? Perhaps Bedelia was only intrigued by Hannibal's well-tailored _person suit_. Maybe it was both.

Bedelia's only escape was that tiny little injection she administrated herself, which allowed her to comprehend Hannibal's motives. In her induced state she understood, with a cold and clinical mind, what Hannibal did in the past, and what he was doing now.

In her mental palace, Bedelia entertained herself creating the perfect profile for the perfect killer—Hannibal was nowhere near perfect.

 _He has cracks. The person suits it's wearing thin._

But the mental palace didn't last long. Just as it has been built, it suddenly came crumbling down. This way of "escaping" or _illuminating_ , Bedelia preferred, herself had started since the first day she and Hannibal had arrived in Florence, when she had stopped being Bedelia Du Maurier to play the role of Lydia Fell.

This time however, Bedelia needed more, she even felt the need to taste—to _experiment_ —what Hannibal did. Only this time she wanted to do it deliberately, not like what had happened with her patient, Neal Frank. Bedelia wanted to feel something, anything.

Was she becoming a monster too? Bedelia felt the need for blood… instead, she administrated herself one last shot of the injection, and let herself rest over the plush armchair. Bedelia saw blood all over herself, the room itself was red—but everything else shone more clearly than ever.

 **…**

Hannibal entered the apartment trying to be as quietly as possible. Bedelia had been having severe headaches during the past few weeks and he didn't want to disturb his "wife's" mood any further. Things had gotten a little bit tense between them after the oysters, acorns and Marsala affair.

More often than he dared to admit, Hannibal found himself remembering what Bedelia had said: _almost anything can be trained to resist its instinct. A shepherd dog doesn't savage the sheep_. Hannibal still wanted to—he would always want to.

The instant he entered, Hannibal sensed something was off. Despite being late night, the lights were, oddly, still on—Bedelia never waited for him at night.

Every night since their arrival in Florence she had withdrawn herself to the privacy of her room and, every time, Hannibal would secretly open the door to confirm that Bedelia was peacefully sleeping.

More worrying yet was the strange smell that lingered in the air, the chemical scent violently invading his nostrils.

How hadn't Hannibal smelled it before?

"Bedelia?" Silence.

Upon further entering the room, Dr. Lecter left his portfolio on the dining table—where he saw a broken rubber band, two empty vials and a used syringe—its tip coated in fresh blood.

 _Is it Bedelia's blood?_

"Bedelia?" Hannibal called again, a little more worried this time. His gaze fell upon the armchair, and he ran to it upon recognizing Bedelia's lifeless body.

Hannibal let his cold clinical thinking take power over him and grabbed Bedelia in his arms, lowering her—quickly, yet ever so gently—to the floor; with his strong hands settled atop Bedelia's chest, Hannibal started to give her CPR. His psychiatrist's lips were cold, starting to turn blue.

A memory invaded Hannibal's now glassy eyes.

Ironically, he remembered the first time his lips touched Bedelia's, not even hours ago. The image was crystal clear, like everything related to his psychiatrist was.

He remember how Bedelia had watched for him from the balcony, how she had taken his pencil seductively and then the drawing out of his hands. What Hannibal didn't quite remember was if there had been a certain sadness that had tinged Bedelia's soft voice… maybe he preferred to imagine it that way.

 _"You won't be coming back here for a very long time."_

 _"Memories of Florence will be all I have. Florence is where I became a man. I see my end in my beginning."_

 _"All of our endings can be found in our beginnings."_

 _She had walked into the room, not before glancing him head to toe, clearly wanting Hannibal to follow after her._

 _"You've packed lightly."_

Hannibal could almost feel again the feeling of real solitude that had invaded him when Dr. Du Maurier said she wanted to leave. Technically she had said, _"I packed for you. This is where I leave you –or more accurately, where you leave me."_ Little did Bedelia know, leaving her wasn't something Hannibal planned to do anytime soon.

Bedelia had also defied him. She had walked so seductively and yet threateningly towards him, their hands almost touching if not for the little distance she had purposely left.

 _"I knew that you intended to eat me, and I knew that you had no intention of eating me hastily."_

 _"Would be a shame not to savour you."_

 _"I have not marinated long enough for your tastes."_

 _"When they come for you–"_

 _"And they will come."_

 _"What will you say of me?"_

 _"I will help you tell the version of events you want to be told. I will help you because you asked me to."_

 _"You may make a meal of me yet, Hannibal…"_ He remembered how Bedelia's eyes had never left his gaze as she neared her lips towards him. Hannibal felt tempted to close the distance between them, nearing his lips a little more towards hers. He felt how Bedelia's lips closed over his mouth and just a fast as they had touched, hers were pulling away—but not before Hannibal managed to give a little peck to Bedelia's lower lip and jaw.

 _"…but not today."_

He remembered how she had taunted him in a way that had excited Hannibal in such an ordinary—if not disgusting—human way.

Hannibal stopped his CPR when he heard Bedelia gasp desperately for air, his vision becoming sharp.

Dr. Du Maurier's lips tasted good, just like they had tasted in the morning, but he refrained himself—his hands still trembling over his former psychiatrist chest… if he could eat her, he'd be done with this insufferable desire. Instead, Hannibal took Bedelia in his arms once again and carried her to her bedroom. He laid Bedelia gently on the bed, fetching more pillows so she could rest comfortably against the headboard.

Hannibal noted that Bedelia looked tired—there were bags under her closed eyes, and for the first time he noticed the tiny little spots on her arms. It seemed that the spots screamed out at him, _how could you not see this before? Who would ever, in their right mind, stay by your side?_

Dr. Lecter shook his head, trying to focus on the current situation but also banishing any self-destructive thoughts; he went to his room in search of an IV line and saline.

When he pierced Bedelia's skin, the aroma of blood invaded the room. Hannibal lifted Bedelia's deadweight arm to his nose and inhaled deeply, like it was the last thing he would do before dying, closing his eyes.

"Go ahead," Dr. Lecter heard his colleague, Bedelia Du Maurier, whisper in a husky voice.

Hannibal looked at her, surprised—he was caught red-handed. Hannibal would have apologized for the inappropriate action but the lust that invaded Bedelia's icy look refrained him from doing so. If he didn't know better, Hannibal would have dared to think that she was as humanly aroused as he was.

"Go ahead, Hannibal," Bedelia repeated, moving her arm even closer to Hannibal's lips.

They locked eyes, and as in way of agreement, Dr. Lecter closed his mouth over Bedelia's arm—but still not biting. Hannibal saw how she closed her eyes in sign of pleasure when his mouth touched her skin.

Hannibal heard how her breathing became errant, and guessed Bedelia could also feel how errant his own breathing had become. He was aroused—everything seemed brighter, every scent more violent and invasive. Bedelia's skin felt so warm under his touch.

Hannibal closed his mouth over Bedelia's arm, savoring her. He nailed his teeth softly into Bedelia's flesh until he felt hot blood pool his mouth. It was ecstasy.

Bedelia moaned, eyes flashing open in response to the sudden pain that invaded her body—but she didn't scream, just hissed.

Hannibal licked the blood his bite had caused to escape Bedelia's body. He even swallowed the tiny bit of flesh he had rip from Bedelia's forearm and backed away, but still sitting on the bed right next to his wife.

"What do I taste like?" Bedelia asked in her soft, sensual voice.

Thoughtless, Hannibal moved forward and dared to kiss Bedelia—deeply, violently—his hand moving instinctively to grab her by her face.

To his surprise Hannibal heard Bedelia moan against his mouth. She returned the kiss as roughly as he had given it, their tongues fighting for dominance rather than testing each other.

Before she broke the kiss, Bedelia bit Hannibal hard—her teeth tearing his lower lip apart. Hannibal hissed, moving his tongue over his bleeding lip; he let his forehead rest against Bedelia's while doing so, both breathing heavily, personal space long forgotten.

 _"Squisita."_

 ** _\- The end -_**

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 _PS. Watch Borgen and The Killing, the come back to me and lets start a huge fandom together (with fanfiction of course) lol._

 _Find me in twitter as julipemariani._

 _Lots of love,_

 _xx_


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